


Mirror

by Oft



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Circuit Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-27
Updated: 2012-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-31 19:41:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oft/pseuds/Oft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Kevin's new grid, Tron and Alan forge a fragile relationship, and find that program  mirrors the user.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirror

Fingertips on fire. A noticeable demarcation between the fire and smooth skin. Lines of heat and spark alternating under his palm, moving freeways of interface junctions and input putting out light. The sight of the circuits in Tron’s skin fascinated Alan, and in the dark of the grid, the lines of light were all he could see. Tron’s quiet gasps were loud in the room, and Alan unexpectedly found himself reacting to it, the heat seeming to travel from Tron into him, lighting all his nerves, making the space close in on him. Tron’s eyes were on him, the sharp blue contrasting to the shifting hues of the circuits that entranced him.

‘I wanted you to understand what it feels like for me though. Your clothes … ’ Tron tugged at the circuits on Alan’s sleeve, ‘They can relay the same feeling. Found that out with Flynn.’ His voice had never rose above a whisper, but Alan felt like it rang inside his head. He looked up to see Tron’s serious expression softened with . . something. He looked the way Alan felt sometimes when intimate with Lora, but he couldn’t be sure. He was still trying to get a feel for the differences between human and program cues. Alan had misjudged a couple of times already, and he didn’t want to assume right now, during this delicate exploration. Tron smirked a little bit, then turned the arm Alan held now, hand grabbing Alan’s forearm, securing his grip. Alan didn’t plan on pulling back, but he tensed nonetheless at the sudden move. He couldn’t get used to it, this program wearing his face, being so incredibly strong and quicker than he ever thought possible. But he was also irresistibly drawn to Tron as well. Alan was starting to understand Flynn’s fascination with this place and it’s inhabitants.

Tron’s other hand pulled Alan’s lapel aside, pushing the fabric away from Alan’s body suit. The circuits there weren’t complex like Tron’s- they were wide and curved, more like Yori’s designs. He ran a finger down the widest, following the curve over Alan’s chest, watching the color curl from green to blue-lavender. He smiled at Alan’s sudden start at the feeling, how strong was anyone’s guess, but judging from Alan’s initial jerk away, Tron assumed very strong indeed. The larger circuits always delivered more of a punch in the interface department.

‘Aaah … this is … this is what it feels like for you? Flynn was right- very close to AAHHhhh . . sex … ’ Tron had no clue what the term meant and trailed a second finger along a smaller circuit next to it. Alan’s reaction was stronger again, and curled forward a little at the touch. Tron laid his entire palm across Alan’s chest now, let his broad hand set across the badge of angled lines and triangles. Alan realized the sensation was overwhelming his senses, and he was uncomfortably hard. He fought the urge to grab Tron’s hand and dig into his circuits as well, reciprocating the sharp jolts of pleasure.

It took a moment to realize Tron’s face was right next to his now, his hand sliding down the track of broad circuit and down over his hip. Alan bucked his hip forward a little, involuntarily, and Tron’s touch continued down Alan’s leg. Alan felt on fire now. He gave in and thrust his own hand against Tron, fingers finding the circuit terminations on his shoulder. Tron let out the slightest of groans at it, and pressed forward to find Alan’s mouth, sucking sharply on his lip. His other hand grabbed at Alan’s side, delivering another slam of spark, twitching electricity through Alan’s body, and he pulled away at it. Tron leaned forward, pushing Alan back, sliding his circuits along Alan’s body, and Alan pressed his hips upward, grinding his aching erection against Tron.

Alan’s breath was sucked out of him again as Tron engaged him in another searing kiss, accented by the sizzle of circuit contact. He found himself pinned under the program now, the weight only frustrating him, keeping him from relieving the strain of his hardness, prompted by all the touching, none of it expected. A groan escaped him, reverberating through Tron, and Tron’s hands pulled at his clothes. The fabric evaporated under his touch, skittering away in squares of pixelization. Alan clawed at him now, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him off. He felt Tron’s own suit disappear under his touch, and then there was bare contact, Tron’s fingers now wrapped around Alan’s freed shaft. The circuits lit the air between them and Alan shifted his gaze down between them. Below all the thin trils of elaborate design on Tron’s body, there was a y of thick circuits, terminating across from where a belly button would be, and extending down, then around, an equally hard shaft. Alan was fixated, his eyes breifly darting back up to meet Tron’s own, then returning down. Willing his fingers to move, he let them stray over the fine lines decorating Tron’s own cock.

Tron hissed at the touch, and wrapped his hand more firmly around Alan’s cock, stroking to elicit another moan from him. Alan complied, shifting his hips as much as he could pinned under the program, and stroked Tron in kind. The slim threads of light on Tron’s shaft buzzed against Alan’s skin, and he stroked harder. He felt Tron shift his weight, start a slow rhythm of rocking against him, driving his circuits against Alan, letting the surges of electrical charge build against him. He dropped his head against the crook of Alan’s shoulder, his hair, sharp with spikes and shock, scratched against Alan’s skin, adding to the man’s frustration.

Alan finally bucked hard against his program, wanting more than the elicit buzzing that permeated his skin. Tron replied in kind and pushed. Alan found his legs spread roughly apart, and the hefty weight of the warrior pressing down between him, Tron’s mouth set against Alan’s chest, tongue finding nipple, circling, nipping. Alan moaned loudly this time, fingers now digging into the expansive design that covered Tron’s back. The color, already pulsing purple, glowed bright, almost nuclear. Tron’s cock pressed between the valley of Alan’s buttocks, sliding along the sensitive strip just above. The circuitry buzzed against his balls, driving Alan to thrust harder against Tron. He wanted the program now. He had never wanted attention from another man like this, not even Flynn got under his skin so thoroughly. Tron recognized the motion for what it was, having enough experience with the man Alan addressed as his friend, and slowly pressed home.

Entry was slow-going, and Tron struggled to not hurt Alan with his attentions. Alan cried under his breath, the pain of it being outweighed by the fantastic sensation coiling around his loins. Tron slid further in, filling Alan, grinding to a halt when his hips pressed against the back of Alan’s thighs. He could feel the user tighten around him, press against his circuitry, a different type of heat combating the burn coming off his circuits. Tron cried against Alan despite himself, the sensation completely different from any of his liasons with Flynn, or Yori. His User gave of himself, adding to the flux of energy coming off Tron, magnifying, elevating the sensations of this interface. The space they inhabited reflected the violet luminescence, the air crackling with untapped power from their new connection, and then the air seemed to catch with scintillation as Tron withdrew and forged anew into Alan, his motions rough and hard. Alan felt the wave of motion and dug in, clinging to Tron as he pistoned away, the program’s hands now traveling again, pulling at Alan’s shoulder, digging into his hair, his weight driving Alan down onto the surface of the platform they were on.

Alan’s coat caught the bulk of the abrasions the surface delivered; Alan’s cock flexed against the friction of Tron’s circuitry laden skin. Alan couldn’t process the sensations anymore- it was all one train of being ridden. Is this how Lora felt when he did the same? Was he this attentive? Did he fill her this thoroughly? His brain skittered through a dozen questions, but came right back to Tron slamming into him, mouth taking over his lips one more, devouring his wild vocalizations. Tron in turn clung to the cycling power fluctuations- driving him headlong into overdrive and overload, buoying him against the same. Alan felt like he was drowning in the energy bleeding off Tron now. The light filled his vision when his orgasm suddenly overwhelmed him. His cock pulsed semen between them, glowing with energy from the grid, and Tron’s excited rhythm smeared the mess.

Tron was burdened with too much energy; he wasn’t finished.

He sat up abruptly and turned Alan on his side, teeth scraping over Alan’s shoulder as he did so, then pushed Alan down against the coat, resuming his place within. Alan cried out, voice laden with desire and want. Tron picked up his rhythm once more, sliding in as far as possible, face now buried within Alan’s hair as he struggled to find an end to their interface. He rode a streak of lightning in his system now, looking to bleed out the extra energy. He dared not dump it into Alan. His fingers found the floor of the platform beneath the coat and let the circuits of his hands find one broad patch of light. He felt the energy flow out into it, and suddenly the overload. He cried again against Alan, sliding his face up against Alan’s cheek and he tensed and stalled the overload as much as he could. The line of light that led off the platform grew white-hot then fizzled out, and Tron’s consciousness fled with it.

As Alan caught his breath, he found himself trapped under his program’s heavy body. He was comfortable though, and decided to doze till Tron rebooted.

* * *

Alan had no grasp of the passing of time in the Grid still, but Tron assured him it was only been a few microcycles since . . . their interface. The lightrunner moved briskly over the rough landscape, past all the outcroppings and the edge of the city, but it seemed to move like molasses to Alan's perception.

'You won't say anything to Flynn, will you?' Alan was unsure how close Tron and Kevin were, and the last thing he wanted to give his friend another target to heckle him for. Tron looked over from behind the wheel, quizzical worry crossing his features.

'I won't, if you wish, but it's nothing me and Kevin haven't done. Though I admit, with you, it's . . . different.' The casual remark caught Alan cold. Tron had returned his attention to the road before them for a moment, but returned his gaze briefly to Alan. His User appeared to have been struck; the program suddenly realized his error. The vehicle slowed to a halt, and Tron turned his full attention to Alan. 

'Have I done something wrong, Alan One?'

'Stop calling me that. It's just . . . Alan.' It was Tron's turn to look a little hurt at the sharp reply, and Alan regretting his tone immediately. He still was a little weirded out by seeing his own face looking at him without a mirror, expressing emotions he never got to see himself. 'I'm sorry, I'm still not used to that. I didn't mean anything by it.' He took a pause. 'And you haven't done anything wrong. It's just back home, stuff like this,' he gestured his hand to point between the both of them, 'Between us back there- that's not talked about. It's just a cultural . . . thing. Not looked upon very well.' Alan felt like he stumbled too much over his own tongue trying to explain. Tron's expression was neutral as he considered the reply, but the muscle of his jaw flexed as he unconsciously clenched it.

'I would think that Flynn would be the one person to approve, then.' The program watched Alan intently, then turned and put the lightrunner back into motion. Alan looked out over the landscape instead of replying; his mind was trying to sort out this new bit of information. It didn't surprise him in a way, yet . . . that was essentially HIM that Flynn did this with too. Damn that man.

The unchanging storm of the sky brought out the lights of Tron city, the myriad of colored lines jutting out from the black shapes of buildings. Small lights of the recognizers dotted the sky in little firefly dances far above from Alan's view, and Alan felt himself awed anew at this place that Kevin made, and the re-realization he was helping build the world here.

They passed underneath a tall gate upon reaching the bridge, and the long row of suspended lights overhead led them into the heart of the city. A few turns and streets later, past and under some of the light-laden blocks of architecture, and they were back at a square of open gridspace, the blue of construction code rising into the sky as bits and pixels slowly built a new building underneath. Tron exited after halting the car, and paused for Alan before strolling over to a small squad of figures closer to the construction. One of the figures put an arm around Tron's shoulder and Alan could hear Flynn's laugh carry over to him. Alan pulled his coat tighter about him as he started to approach the group as well.

Tron and Flynn were the first he recognized on his approach, then Flynn's digital clone. That unsettled Alan almost as much as Tron looking like him did. But Clu was the steady presence that Flynn wasn't. The straight man in the grid equation where Alan was back in the real world. There were a few others he only vaguely recognized from briefly meeting them back when he first arrived- security detail? They buzzed about like worker bees tending to stray bits, logging the progress on glowing data boards. Glowing tracks across the surface of the platformways marked the base of the perimeter of the structure, and Alan decided to circumvent the group to follow them around, drown his thoughts in the buzzing hum of construction.

Flynn watched Alan saunter away, curious. He tossed his own tablet to Tron, the program's reflexes catching it mid-spin, and he trotted over to Alan, clasping his shoulder before draping his arm completely on the taller man's frame. That familiar clench graced Alan's jaw for a swift moment. Flynn abruptly dropped his carefree demeanor.

'What . . . is going on, Alan?' Flynn's tone was as serious as Alan had ever heard it. He studied Flynn's expression for a moment before shaking his head.

'I don't really know. This place is still a lot to wrap my head around. Especially knowing that my . . . program looks just like me. I'm not comfortable with it. And I'm not comfortable with you calling me Tron now that I know he's a real . . . I don't know.' He turned to gaze up at the elevating lines of electric diagram as it pulsed and shifted, watching bits and pixelated bricks flicker into existence a few at a time. 'It's amazing; I get that. But I'm thinking it's not for me.'

'Are you kidding, man? This place needs someone EXACTLY like you!' Flynn's voice raised considerably, drawing the brief attention of nearby programs. He dropped his voice again. 'I'm serious. You are the best programmer I know aside from me, and you know how to get things done where I get sloppy. I mean . . ' Alan cut him off with a look.

'You have that someone.' He leveled his gaze over at Clu. 'He IS like me.'

'He can't program, Alan.'

'He cleans up your messes well enough.'

'Alan. . . ' Flynn was cut off again as Alan shook his head. 

'No.' Alan looked like he regretted saying that instantly. 'I mean . . . we'll see. I don't want to find this becoming my whole life. I got a company to run for you, a marriage, which need I remind you, you have as well, obligations, Flynn. You live by the seat of your pants, but it's not for me. This,' he gestured at . . . well, everything. 'This is as close as I've seen you play serious. It's admirable, but it's not what you need to focus on. I can't be your man if you're gonna buck everything back home.' Flynn dropped his arm from Alan's shoulders, his eyebrows cocking a near intense expression at Alan's barrage of words, all true. 'And another thing. . . ' Alan wavered now, but the feeling of frustration at Flynn buoyed him along. 'When were you going to tell me you and Tron had a . . .thing going?'

That remark truly brought Flynn up short. 

'You . . . know?'

'From the program himself. I'm not saying anything's wrong with it . . here. I just. I don't know. I'm still weirded out by it. He's . . . me.' Alan expected Flynn to rebuke the statement, turn it into a joke, SOMETHING; Alan hadn't expected Flynn to close the space. 

'I did it because you're off limits. He's more like you than you think, but less hangups.' He clapped Alan's shoulder before turning back. 'If it's that all you're worried about, I'll play hands off.' He turned while walking, never changing his path's direction. 'Scout's honor.' It was followed by a huge grin. Alan clamped his eyes shut in exasperation, clamping the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Again, he wanted to throttle the man. Opening his eyes, he saw Tron looking his way across the space, that indescribable feeling of awe decorating the program's face. Alan still didn't know what to make of the user worship from him. No other program seemed to express it, but Tron had it in spades. Another reason Alan felt like he didn't belong. He sighed, turned back to the construction, anything to occupy his thoughts.

* * *

Another cycle, and Alan found himself back in the system. This time, he took perch in an overlook tower in one of the many tall buildings in the city. The place was nice enough- Kevin made efforts to make it feel more like home- comfortably stylish furniture, tables, a bed to crash in, lights. Those emanated from the walls, though, streams of light in one or two lines passing halfway down the wall, filling the room with gentle luminescence. One wall was actually a window of null material; Alan could walk out to a balcony as he pleased. Flynn has set him up with an interface tablet, hooked into the system. Alan could work on the code from anywhere. No need to hunch over a terminal.

He reclined back in one of the chairs in the main room, feet perched up on the table, idly tapping the tablet as he sipped from his drink. A faint wisp of doorway movement caught his ears, and he started talking to Flynn as the man approached, only to stop midsentence when he realized the step pattern was wrong. He turned his head to face Tron, who paused at the line that demarcated the larger room. Alan paused for a bit, watching the program's face for a moment before gesturing to another chair. The set of Tron's shoulders seemed to suggest all business, as did the fact that he stopped short of reaching the chair to sit.

'Yes, Tron?' Alan hoped it was about some sort of security issue, though why Tron would come to him about it and not Flynn was beyond him. Tron started to say something, then pulled back, his face saying all Alan didn't want to hear.

No, it wasn't beyond him, he realized. It had to do with that inane worship issue Tron held. Alan tried not to sigh in exasperation. He dropped the tablet into the chair next to him and sat further back into his seat.

'Tron, you've got to stop that. I'm not a god. I'm just . . . Alan. Just like Flynn.'

'No, you're not. Flynn doesn't redirect my electrical signals. He doesn't demand my attention with I/O contact. He doesn't care.' Tron emphasized that last word. Alan looked over his glasses quizzically at his program.

'You're a program, Tron. You have duties. It shouldn't matter if he does.'

'You don't understand, Alan.' Tron's hand landed on the chair Alan was in; the reverberations rocked him roughly. Tron had Alan's full attention with the gesture at least. 'The old system, this was part of us, our very soul, to commune with our users. The programs here are lost, cut off. Flynn being here is not the same. They'll never understand the completion of circuit within with no users. You being here, you being *my* user . . . I wish I could explain. The best way I could was when you were last here, when I brought you to the outlands for interface. You got to *feel* it. That is what it used to be like all the time, more so when communication through the I/O towers, and Flynn. . . he means well but he's removed what it means to be part of the system. He will never understand.' Alan couldn't believe what he just heard. That not only programs were real, but they had souls that sought out something other. Just like the people outside in the 'real' world. It was a lot to take in. Tron kneeled on the floor next to him now, on one knee, and Alan suddenly found him leaning over, resting his head and torso on Alan's lap.

'I just wish I could make you understand.' 

A hard pull in his gut wrenched at Alan now. Maybe he had an idea what Tron was getting at- a crisis of faith was the closest Alan could equate it to. He numbly reached forward, rested his fingers in Tron's hair. 

'I'm sorry, Tron. I don't know how to make this an open system for you again. I mean, technically, you're still in operation on the Encom server. Is that what you're . . . I mean . . . I don't even know what I'm getting at. I could always bring this up with Kevin.' Tron sat up again, eyes locking with Alan's own, a small expression of betrayal seeping in. 'Ignore that. I don't know what I'm even talking about.' He shook his head as he said it, and brought his drink over to sip from. The gentle clink of ice cubes was the only sound in the room. Alan returned the glass to the other chair arm then returned Tron's solid gaze. 'Honestly, you sound like me. I'm here. I have a job. I don't even know what it's supposed to accomplish. I'm not familiar with this place, the people, the rules . . . I sound about as lost as you. Only . . the faith thing. It's a little different outside.'

Tron clasped Alan's hand at that.

'You do understand then. I'm lost.' Fingers curled around Alan's palm, the strong grip wrapping his hand in between fabric and slick armor. Alan flexed his fingers in response around Tron's hand as well, thumb skittering over the lights on Tron's knuckles. A gentle flare of lavender, and then back to blue.

Once again, Alan found himself under the weight of his program, this time in more comfortable surroundings. Tron's leg had slipped down between Alan's own and he groped at his user's clothing feverishly, lines alight with violet. Alan wished he knew what it was that made him want Tron when the color shift happened- maybe it was that connection that Tron clung to like a lifeline. A crushing kiss forced all thought away, dragging Alan under. Alan's fingers clenched around Tron's sides, traveled to tap against all the sections of that elaborate maze of circuitry on his back, making Tron gasp against him. Tron rolled to his side though, dragging Alan close, pulling his user . . . HIS user . . . over his leg, tangling with him, gripping him close and letting the tide of connection burn through him. Alan let his lips nuzzle against the trail of lights along Tron's throat, and cried out at the heat of skin contact whispering from full connection to none.

Alan didn't remember how they got here. It was a whirl of action after that talk, and Alan thought that maybe again, he had initiated it. But Tron was the control here. Stronger, faster, more inclined to make the first move. Alan just rode the action. The tangle of limbs between the both of them on the bed proved that he must have wanted it, or he wouldn't be here. He obviously wasn't as bothered by this as he thought. He kissed Tron wherever he could crane his reach, alternating lips, tongue, and cheek across the brilliant violet glow. Then he saw it, first reflected against the blankets- a gentle white glow- then he pulled back to look at Tron squarely. Tron's hair- he remembered it was different the first time they interfaced, but now he saw that it glowed- a bristle of glowing filaments intertwined with the normally dark coif. He smiled lopsidedly, bringing his hand up to touch. The glow bled off onto his fingers, and he rolled individual strands between them.

'Does this happen all the time when you . . . you know?' Tron only grinned back at him, not volunteering any reply. 'Huh.' Alan was still routinely surprised by this world and it's inhabitants, especially now as Tron dragged him in for more intimacy. The circuitry along Tron's torso buzzed against Alan's body. God, he would never get used to it- he perceived ozone and small snaps when it happened- and squirmed against the program for more. They took turns this time, mouth against skin, hands everywhere, hard cocks sliding along hip and thigh and each other, then Tron straddled Alan. Alan couldn't help but think of him now like a predator over head, studying him before striking.

'It's only fair that you take this time, since I took last time, my user.' Alan shifted his gaze down to see that Tron had settled forward, shifting his hips enough to let Alan's cock slide underneath his own. He felt where the two broad strips from the front of Tron's torso converged, and led the way past his head. The sizzle of connection only made him harder. Tugging at Tron's hips, he angled himself between his program's buttocks, letting his shaft find the way to the opening there. Tron sat back suddenly, and Alan was swept along the intense current of sensation as Tron's body suddenly surrounded and gripped him. 

Too much, too fast. That was the only conscious thought in Alan's mind as orgasm took him, far sooner than anticipated. Wrapping his arms around Tron, he held on, riding the pulsating waves to their destination. Slow microcycles passed as he lay back, catching his breath at the unexpected end. He didn't let go of Tron though, his hands sliding down to rest against the program's thighs, and Tron just sat, glowing intensely, staring curiously at Alan's suddenly strange behavior. Alan took stock of the strange look and snickered.

'Just give me a moment, Tron. I wasn't expecting that to be so quick.' Tron smirked in reply. 

'If only you users had modulating code to prevent that,' Tron trailed off a bit, followed by a look that hinted that he knew about this problem already. Flynn, Alan figured. With that thought, he thrust upward suddenly, catching Tron off guard, for once. Tron's blue eyes pulsed, his expression one of surprise as he stared at his user.

'I don't need code.' And Alan wasn't lying. The pulsations of energy coming from Tron fed into the new sensations, and he hadn't flagged. Still hard, now slick, he gently rocked up and back, letting himself get lost in the tightness and pulsations within Tron. This turn, the user and the program fed off each other, cycled fluctuations of energy and sensation drove them to push each other's tolerances and desires to another finish, bleeding the lights of the room black.

* * *

Alan met Flynn at the portal in short order, the window for the beam almost expired. Tron oversaw their departure once again, almost unwilling to let his user go. Flynn had patted him on the shoulder, declaring they'd be back before Tron knew it, but Tron felt in his gut that it was a half truth. He stayed till they were gone anyways, and watched the storm clouds long after the portal went dark.


End file.
